Edward Elric: the Tomb Raider
by Midnight-in-Russia
Summary: Based off of the newly released 2013 Tomb Raider game plot. Edward Elric and Roy Mustang's makeshift team are out on an adventure to discover the lost kingdom of Castundya. When their ship wrecks and they are stranded on an island, what will happen? What happens when the hostile inhabitants discover them? Will they make it back to the United States alive? Roy/Ed.


DISCLAIMER: All credit goes to the creators of Tomb Raider and Fullmetal Alchemist. I do not own any of this. I based this story off of the new 2013 Tomb Raider game. I changed some of the locations and names of tribes to my liking. Enjoy!

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Edward Elric sighed as he lay down on his assigned bed, a vindictive spring digging into his ribs as he did so. He could feel the ship rocking as he lay there, staring up at the white ceiling. He hated this. The waiting was driving him insane. The anticipation was crawling underneath his skin. He needed to _do _something, or he knew he was going to die of boredom.

They had been sailing for five days now. Head archaeologist, Roy Mustang, and his team were headed toward an island to the north of Russia. Earlier that day, Ed had calculated in his head and knew that they should have arrived by now. There was no way that the journey could be more than five days. Everyone on the ship chattered worriedly about how they should have at least hit land by now; however, no one was willing to say a word to Mustang. The man was frustrated, even more so than everyone else.

The island they were headed to was legendary – host to a lost kingdom. No one had found the island since it had become just that – lost. For the past century, artifacts had been found in the ocean, suggesting that the island was indeed real, but no one seemed to be able to find it. Castundya was a modern-day Atlantis. Heard of, dreamed of, but never found. Books upon books were written on Castundya, but not a single soul had found the island, and if they had, no one had reported it.

Ed knew it was a long shot, but he had seen the artifacts at a museum. They had been found at the bottom of the ocean. There was no other body of land close by. He knew items drifted over time, but they couldn't have drifted that far away from the coast of Russia. He wanted to see for himself if he was right about his gut feeling. Castundya existed; he was almost one hundred percent certain.

He had had a hunch about the coordinates. At first, no one had listened to him. After all, he was only seventeen years old – a mere archaeology graduate, fresh out of school. It hadn't taken long for his teachers to recognize his uncannily high intelligence. They had pushed him forward, allowing him to skip several grades in the process. But even with his academic marks backing him up, it had taken so long to get Mustang to listen to him, and even then, the man wasn't willing to take Ed's suggested route. In the end, it had been Maes Hughes that had convinced Roy to go along with Ed's plan, and Hughes wasn't even present on the ship. He was at home with his wife and daughter, but he was keeping in contact with his team.

Now, after all of that, Ed was beginning to feel the claws of doubt closing around him. If they had just wasted five days – five whole days – everyone on the ship was going to be more than just a little aggravated. Mustang was already dangerously close to his temper's breaking point. Instead of snapping at Ed though, so far Roy had pushed his slowly boiling anger into a steady flow of concentrated determination…though it probably wouldn't take long for him to reach his limit.

He sighed again as he looked down at his cell phone. It was 7:01 in the evening, and the sun was setting, streaking the sky with brazen colors of red, orange, and pink – not that Ed could see it down in his living quarters. He'd bet anything that Mustang was exhausted. The man barely slept it seemed. When Ed rose in the morning, Roy was already awake and up on deck, sipping a cup of coffee as he glared at a map. When Ed went downstairs at sunset, Roy was still steering the ship, staring out onto the horizon, searching for any sign of land.

Everyone else was on edge, but none so much as Mustang. Ed pulled a face as he thought about the makeshift crew that they were working with. Alex Louis Armstrong was a gigantic, muscular man. He was a former Marine turned adventurer. He was extremely kind and helpful, but most of the time he was a bit on the overbearing side. Ed had so far managed to steer clear of the towering man, and for that he was thankful.

Envy Vasilyev was a few years older than Ed, and he was an archaeology graduate himself. Envy hadn't had the pleasure of skipping a few grades as Ed had, so he was a fair twenty-two year old. Ed had met him in college, and had come to find out that the Vasilyev family had supposedly descended from the island of Castundya. According to Envy's great-grandmother, their ancestors had once been one of Castundya's wealthiest families; a fact that had not been in their favor, as they had been exiled to Russia.

It had been Ed that had convinced the Vasilyev family to fund this expedition. With their research money, as well as Roy's (he was a celebrity archaeologist), funding the trip had been too easy. They had all of the necessary supplies and equipment for traveling and exploring. The ship was stocked to the brim with anything and everything that they might have needed.

Riza Hawkeye was the mechanic. The woman was skeptical of the whole idea of Castundya to begin with, not to mention that she was very intimidating. Ed shook his head as he thought of the overly formal and stiff mechanic. She was none too excited to be on the SS Endurance, but Ed shrugged; she was being paid well enough. She could deal with it.

Jean Havoc was an easygoing fisherman, who was willing to believe anything that anyone told him. He ensured that the crew had something to eat on a daily basis. They had plenty of food stocked in the ship's kitchen area, but it was always good to have a backup in case anything went wrong. Jean could always be found on deck, either fishing, lounging, or smoking a cigarette. He smiled easily and was rather comical to watch, if nothing else.

Heymans Breda was the Scottish helmsman, gruff and scruffy. He could always be found chatting amicably with Hawkeye. They were both skeptics, although Ed could see that they had different reasons. Hawkeye just didn't believe in the legend – end of story. Breda, as far as Ed could tell, was scared. He was scared of tottering into uncharted territory and terrified of not knowing what was going to happen next.

Kain Fuery was a bespectacled electronics specialist, recruited by Mustang for his natural abilities to tinker with anything that was made with wires. He was a kind and gentle man, and his compassion for humanity and animals was touching. He was goofy at times, but Ed respected the small man for being trustworthy and honest at all times.

And then, there was Roy Mustang himself. The celebrity archaeologist had his own show on television. He had been to so many places – Ed could only imagine what the man had seen in his lifetime. Ed had written Roy, expressing his interest in finding Castundya. He had made an earnest offer to be Roy's apprentice, also including the fact that the Vasilyev family had offered to fund part of the trip. He had explained with such passion about his ideas and calculations of Castundya's whereabouts that Mustang had no choice but to write him back. Ed's jaw had dropped when he had read Roy's letter of acceptance, offering the young man a chance to travel with him and his team.

Ed smiled sadly as he thought of Al. His younger brother had been so supportive, that Ed had completely missed one simple fact: Al was afraid. The two brothers had been on their own since their mother had passed on. They had no idea where their father had been for the past ten or so years. They had only had each other for the past seven years.

Al had not thrown a fit when Ed explained that the mission was very dangerous and that Al couldn't tag along with him. He had worriedly helped his brother pack, voicing his concerns occasionally, but never once did he try to dissuade Ed from chasing his lifelong dream. Al had caught a train to Resembool, where Ed had convinced him to stay with Winry and Granny Pinako for the duration of his trip.

They had parted at the train station, but not before Al had made him promise to call him as often as possible, text him whenever he could, and take tons of pictures on his phone and send them so he could see what Ed was up to. Ed had vowed to do all of those things, though inwardly he knew he would forget. It was so easy for him to get lost in his own world of maps and compasses, coordinates and charts.

Ed's phone vibrated, snapping him out of his thoughts. The glow from his cell phone was eerie in the darkness of his living quarters. It was Al. Ed smiled as he read his brothers text and stared at the attached picture. It was a picture of Al and Winry's dog, Den, rolling around in the grass in Resembool. The dog's tongue was out, slobbering on Al's cheek as Al laughed at the camera. No doubt it was Winry who had taken the picture, if Al's star struck eyes were any indication.

Ed smirked as he thought of the budding romance between the two. Al was good for Winry, just as the slightly psychotic mechanic was good for Al. They completed each other in an odd way. His meekness and compassion complemented her brashness and obnoxiousness. Ed was just waiting for the day that Al would finally propose to his childhood sweetheart. He snorted. Al would probably piss his pants as he got down on one knee. And Ed wouldn't blame him. That woman was scary when she wanted to be.

The ship rocked, jolting Ed out of bed with its forcefulness. He tried to stand up straight, but the ship was rocking too violently. He grabbed the corner of his dresser with his automail hand, looking towards the open door. He squinted in the darkness, carefully moving to the door as the floor continued to shift beneath his feet. He could hear faint yelling coming from above, Roy's deep voice booming out instructions as another sound filled the air.

The alarms shrieked up and down the halls, Ed reflexively grabbed his head, covering his ears as he quickened his pace, trying to make his way to the stairs. He could see the stairs up ahead, at the end of the long hallway. He could feel the ground beneath him slowly turning in an impossible waltz, and the damned alarm was still screaming its warning around the ship.

Out of nowhere, Ed was pushed to his knees by a rush of freezing water. It dragged him along, closer to the stairs, but the water was rising at a rapid rate. Ed yelled a curse as he bobbed along, slowly sinking. If he went under, there was no way he was coming back up; his automail was too heavy. It was like trying to swim with a cinderblock tied to your arm – in other words, it was impossible. He jutted his chin out above the surface, grabbing onto the railing of the stairs.

He turned to clamber onto the stairs, but something was holding him back. His shirt was caught on a corner of the banister. The water was above his head now, and he squinted to see through the water. The salt burned his eyes as he tried to claw at his shirt. He felt the fabric rip as he climbed the stairs, seeing the opening right ahead.

He was running out of air. His lungs burned as he raced to the top of the stairs, but he felt as if he just wasn't fast enough. Metal limbs were slowing him down as he started to feel dizzy. Ed's lungs were fit to burst as he reached one hand out in front of him, still trudging forward as fast as he could go. Suddenly, a hand shot out in front of him, clutching his arm. He felt his body being propelled upward, and all at once, he could breathe again.

He gasped for air as he started retching, choking on water as it came up. He spit, looking up at his savior. Armstrong smiled grimly back at him as he hauled Ed to his feet. The air was spinning around them, and Ed shivered, goose bumps forming on his bare arms. The wind was so strong that his soaked golden ponytail was still whipping around his face.

"Come, young Elric," Armstrong boomed over the storm. He pointed ahead. "The ship has split in two. We must go! Now!"

Ed peered into the distance. He saw the other half of the ship. It wasn't far away yet, and the half of the ship that Ed and Armstrong were on was slowly sinking. It was then that Ed saw Roy on the other half of the ship. He was yelling at him with his hands cupped around his mouth. With a beckoning gesture, Roy held out his hands in front of him.

The blond's heart hammered in his chest as he nodded. He would have to act fast if he wanted to make it. He touched the cold floorboards of the ship as he lunged, taking off in a sprint. He slipped and slid as the wet floor kept rocking. He ran faster than he ever had in his life, and when he finally reached the edge, he pushed off as he launched.

He clawed at the air as the whole world seemed to roll in slow motion. He could see the fear in Roy's eyes as he aimed for his outstretched arms. Ed's stomach felt as if it was in his throat as his hand brushed Mustang's. The older man clutched with all his might, immediately trying to haul Ed up over the side of the broken ship. Rain streamed down his arm, over their hands and down Ed's left arm. Their hands were too slick with rain and seawater.

Ed's eyes widened in horror as he realized that he was slipping. He tightened his grip but to no avail. He felt Roy's fingertips kissing his fingers lovingly before there was no more. He fell. For what seemed to be an eternity, he fell until he hit the water; the slap on his back was fierce. It was little better than falling onto concrete, and for an instant, all he could do was watch lightning flash across the sky. Pain bloomed all throughout his limbs as he slowly sunk beneath the ocean's dark surface. He knew this was the end. There was no way he would survive this. He swore he saw two figures diving into the water. But no one came to help him. Maybe he had only imagined it. He closed his eyes as water entered his mouth and nostrils. He screamed a silent scream that only he could hear as everything faded out. He didn't even register the strong pair of arms that wrapped around him as his world gradually faded to black.

The first thing he felt was pain. His head throbbed and his breaths were fast and shallow. His heart thrummed in his chest, like a hummingbird fighting to get out of his ribcage. He opened his eyes, feeling a mild burning sensation when he did so. The salt water had dried on his skin. The sky was dark and starless. His mind wanted to be a slow, listless thing, but he forced it into action, the gears turning in his head as he tried to recall what had happened.

He gently sat up, noting with surprise that he was on land. There was sand beneath his flesh fingers, and he looked around cautiously. His neck twanged as he gazed out into the ocean. He saw no sign of the SS Endurance, and he felt a pang of sorrow as he thought about his shipmates. Ed knew that they could hold their own – he only hoped that they had been smart enough to wear proper protective gear, unlike him.

He felt a stiff sort of fabric underneath his flesh arm, and he looked down in surprise as he registered the life jacket that was clipped around his frame. When had he put this on? Had someone slipped it on him as he was drowning? If so, who had it been?

His mind was whirring as he stood up shakily, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he walked off down the shoreline. It wasn't like any coastline he had ever seen back in the United States. This shore was present with grass that was almost as tall as he was. He moved through the thickets, carefully, narrowing his eyes. Something wasn't right here.

Ed could hear voices. He didn't recognize whose voices they were from this distance. He moved closer, leaning forward as he stalked through the brush. Then, his heart leapt as he heard Havoc's voice. He still couldn't put a finger on the other voice, but he continued on, impatiently pushing the grass aside with his automail hand. Bugs buzzed in his ears as he swatted at them. His clothes stuck to his frame, still rather wet. It was chilly out here, and Ed could hardly wait to at least get a small campfire going.

He snarled as something touched his shoulder, spinning him around. An unfamiliar man lunged at Ed, covering the blond's mouth with his own dirty hand. The man stank of some kind of rum and filth. Ed kicked the man's shins with his automail leg, earning a muttered curse from the stranger. He didn't expect the man's sheer amount of strength though as he clamped Ed's arms to his body and with one single fist to the head, Ed was out.


End file.
